


Waiting For The Bus

by ThePandoricaWillOpen



Series: Supernatural Drabbles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 11:36:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8666071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePandoricaWillOpen/pseuds/ThePandoricaWillOpen
Summary: Once in while when Dean hadn't called for a bit, Castiel would appear by a bus stop and wait for a bus. The truth was, he liked being among the throng of people who were too caught up in their lives to care about him. He was nobody and he liked it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 12/19/2013 on FFNET

Castiel waited by the bus stop in the middle of the day in a city in the Midwest. He didn't know which; it didn't matter. Once in while when Dean hadn't called for a bit, Castiel would appear by a bus stop and wait for a bus. It was a good way to observe human life and emotions. That's what he told his fellow angel if they asked. But the truth was, he liked being among the throngs of people who were too caught up in their lives to care about him. He was nobody and he liked it.

On this particular day, the bus was taking longer than the humans around him expected it to take. Castiel stood by the pole that announced the bus route and number and watched as the humans became more aggravated and impatient. He watched in fascination as they interacted with one another, or the lack of interaction, as they waited. Like this woman beside him who paced and spoke exaggerations and expletives into a phone about the bus and it's lateness. Castiel found that curious since the woman had only arrived five minutes prior to making the phone call.

When the bus finally arrived, Castiel let the humans push him out of the way and go inside. He watched as the man took something from his pocket and flashed it by the circular machine attached to some contraption in front of the door. The machine beeped and the man continued on to find a seat. Castiel had done this before, all he had to do was flash his hand over the circle and it would beep. No one questioned him unless the machine didn't make a sound. It always did.

He walked on and sat in the closest seat he could find. He sat, placing his hands in his lap, and waited for the bus to continue its path. He liked the rocking motion that the bus would make as it drove from stop to stop. It was quite different from the motion from Dean's car. This one was less relaxed, more systematic. The driver knew where and when to stop. It was precise. Dean drove like a maniac according to Sam. It was a reference Castiel understood and agree on. But the bus was different; it was calming.

* * *

Castiel was on the bus when a discussion erupted in the back. Four men in the back were yelling back and forth as if the bus was their home. The bus was crowded, people stood up pressed against one another in the front and middle, whilst the back was practically empty. He assumed the men were scaring anyone who wanted to sit down in the rear.

He, himself, was sitting in the very front, almost behind the bus driver. When the discussion reached a high point, all the men yelling at once, their voices vibrating the entire bus, and someone had yet to tell them to keep it down, Castiel stood and headed towards the back. He pushed his way past everyone, muttering, "excuse me", "sorry" and "I need to squeeze by" as he went along.

Five minutes later he made it to the back of the bus and looked at the men. At first, they didn't pay attention to him. But then one man looked, then another and another until all four of them were looking at Castiel. They looked at him from top to bottom and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He could do that too, so he mimicked their look, standing in front of them without holding on to the railings as the bus moved on. Castiel was immovable, the bus didn't even move him in the slightest and that seemed to impress the men a bit.

"You have been very rude to everyone on this bus," Castiel said in the most menacing voice he could make. "Apologise."

"Man, this cracker be crazy!" One man yelled, throwing his hands in the air in Castiel's direction. "Get outta here before I gut you!"

"You do not scare me," Castiel replied looking at each man without blinking. If he wanted to, he could use his Angel of the Lord powers but then the experiment would be over and he would have to go back home without data and peace. He wanted peace and he knew that if he left and let these men cause chaos in the confines of this moving vehicle, he couldn't be able to forgive himself. He squared his shoulder like he'd seen Dean do countless times and said, "I will repeat myself one last time, and you have been rude and obnoxious. Your yelling has disrupted the peace of this vehicle and your discussion is blasphemous. God did not create a single imperfect being on this earth. Sexual orientation matters not to anyone but people of hate who only wish to feel better about themselves by making others miserable." He stopped, stepping closer to them and lowering his voice, "I should know, I'm an Angel of the Lord."

Maybe it was the menacing way in which he said it or his serious eyes that made the men nod their heads and apologise. Or perhaps they thought he was crazy and only wished to be away from him. Either way, a stop later, the men got off the bus and Castiel smiled. The bus erupted into applause which he missed, having gone back home seconds earlier with a smile on his face and peace on his mind.

* * *

The scene outside the train windows blurred to near darkness. It was midnight and the train cart he was on was empty, only the ringing of the train wheels on the tracks was heard. Castiel had other things on his mind as the train doors opened and closed with no one passing through them. Dean had yelled at him today, for such a small thing as not knocking when he 'angel popped into a damn room' as he'd put it.

They had just returned from a hunt, the blood of the vampire was still smell-able in the air. Dean had almost been bitten, the marks on his throat made that clear. Castiel had appeared a few moments after Sam had entered the bathroom, with the intention of healing Dean. But the human had been relaxing and, when Castiel arrived, he hadn't heard the sound of wings he made specifically for him, and had gotten startled. Dean had snapped at him, rising from his bed and yelling at him. Castiel hadn't apologized, why should he? He was only trying to help and it wasn't his fault if Dean hadn't heard his wings. He left but not before reaching for Dean and putting his hand over the wound, healing it even after a protest or two from the hunter.

Castiel wasn't angry but he was confused. There were many times when Dean had snapped at him, too many to count. But none had held the rage that he'd seen in his eyes. He felt… something he could not describe and wondered why he was an angel who could feel and understand humans like no other. He could guess what Dean was feeling but he would never be sure, not without asking him that is. Dean was not someone who would easily talk about his feelings and so it fell to Castiel to decipher the clues he left. If only he knew what those clues were…

He sighed, leaning back further on the seat. The train continued on, picking a few people at the stations but none got into his cart. He watched as the world zipped by and wondered, what was the purpose of an eternal life. He would life centuries, millenniums, all for what? He had a purpose: to serve the Host, God and his commanders. And Dean. what then?

Sometimes he wished he could be human and be able to know what it felt to live  _without_  purpose, to sleep and dream. He wanted to fall in love most of all... he wanted to feel the touch of another, to look and be looked at like the most precious being in the world. He wanted to feel the touch body of his partner, flesh against flesh as they joined as one, to feel the need to please as much as to be pleasured. To know that, no matter what, there was always someone thinking about him, wanting him, and loving him.

Dean wanted what he did, someone to care for and be cared by. He had had Lisa and Ben but they had been to normal, unaccustomed to his lifestyle. He wanted someone who could take care of themselves so that he wouldn't have to worry. He wanted someone to worry about, at the same time. He wanted to be selfish and selfless. Loving yet tough. And he had no one to turn to. So he directed his anger at him. Sam was likely to talk back to him, recount his happy life before Dean barged in and ripped it away from him.

But Castiel was more similar to him than anyone. A child bred to kill and defend. A man obidient to a father who abandoned him; too lonely to care anymore; on the verge of collapsing and wanting a way out. A desperate man in need of something he couldn't put into words.

The doors opened as the train reached yet another station. A young couple entered, hands entwined between them. They sat a few feet away from Castiel, to his left. He watched them without really watching them. He might not know many social rules but he knew that staring at someone in the middle of the night inside an empty train car was not a good thing.

He watched as they leaned into each other, the woman's blonde hair falling over her smiling face and the man reaching out for her, cupping her face. They kissed, hands still entwined, for a tender moment. And then they pulled back, foreheads together smiling to one another as if they had a secret.

Castiel wanted that. He wanted to be able to smile at someone and have them smile back as if their world revolved around him. They would be his world, he would memorize every aspect of their face –  _his_ face. The cupid bow lips, the strong chin that sometimes was speckled with blond hair. The infinite freckles that adorned his face, the wide green eyes and nose. He saw himself leaning down, their lips touching for a brief moment. He imagines the amazing feeling that would rush through him as he opened his eyes and met those green orbs looking at him with love an admiration. He heard himself say the name and almost choked as the revelation hit him.

"Dean."

* * *

Today is all about forgetting. He rides the bus in hopes to forget about everything. He can't feel anything anymore; he is numb. All the hurt and betrayal, like the wheels of the bus, continue to turn until he can't feel it anymore.

The bus continues on, people get on and off. He watches the streets go by one by one they pass. He has no destination; his mind is elsewhere. He finds that the idea of sanctuary no longer applies to his adventures on the bus. He is alone, watching life pass by. He was a mere observer of events – always watching but never understanding. No one will remember what he looked like; he was just another stranger in the crowd. He didn't want to be that anymore. He wanted to care, to be wanted. He... didn't want to be so alone.

"Cas? You out there, Cas? We kinda need your help!" Dean's voice rang out in his head. Castiel pushed the button, the stop requested sign blaring out on the screens. He got off at the next stop, smiling. He was wanted. He was cared for. All he needed was Dean to call out for him, to think of him. All he needed was Dean.

* * *

Castiel didn't know what to do. The man's head was on his shoulder, little puffs of air hitting the lapels of his coat and soft snores came out of his slightly parted lips. The bus was crowded as it was when the man had gotten on, pushing aside a young woman to take the seat. Within minutes of sitting, his eyes were closed, head falling to the left and landing on Castiel's un-expecting shoulder.

Castiel had been thinking about bees, the wondrous creatures that were disappearing. If he took television as the truth, they were returning to their native planet – some of them, not all of them. If he took science correctly… well, they were just dying out. He was an angel and he didn't know what was going on. Just as he started to hypothesize, the head fell on his shoulder.

He turned slowly, not wanting to scare the man who had thought him to be a pillow. He contemplated shimmering out, going into another plane and leaving the bus entirely. But what if when he disappeared the man, now lacking his life-size pillow, were to fall through the empty space and hit his head on the window panel of the bus? He wouldn't dare risk the man's life. But his shoulder had to be uncomfortable for the man, all bone and no fluff. Perhaps if he woke the man up or conjured up a pillow and slid it under his head? But how was he going to explain the sudden appearance of the pillow in a bus full of people?

The people's reactions, ranging from a roll of the eyes to a snort, were interesting. Some thought it an every day thing, though Castiel had never seen someone falling asleep on the bus before. Others thought it uncouth going by the way their noses scrunched up at the sleeping form. A young man, standing not so far away, wished the sleeping man a good nap. Castiel didn't feel any of these.

He just wanted to make the man comfortable. He didn't have the chance however. As the bus reached a train terminal, the name of the station baring out on the busses microphones system, the man was startled awake, snapping out of his dream and away from Castiel's shoulder in a flash. He looked around, his eyes finally landing on Castiel and huffed, gathering his things and making a bee line for the exit. He left Castiel confused.

Perhaps he would ask Dean about bus etiquette the next time he saw him. Maybe Dean could explain why the man seemed so mad at having falling asleep on an Angel of the Lord.

* * *

Nothing was worst than seeing someone die. The light flickering in their eyes being extinguished, the blood pouring out of various holes that had no purpose of being there and the gurgling sound the throat made as a final breath was taken. It was worst for angels, however. Not only did their light go out but also the very essence, their Grace, was forever put out, never to touch the earth again. He vaguely wondered what happened to angels when they died. Demon's went to hell, Leviathans to purgatory, humans to heaven but what about angels? What there an afterlife – a heaven - for them?

His thoughts were elsewhere, head leaning against the bus window staring blankly at the outside world and not paying attention. He registers the thump noise a second after it happened, everyone in the cramped bus already having reacting to the noise. He reacted hesitantly, not knowing what had really happened or wanting to interfere. But he wasn't able to just stand by whilst someone got hurt.

"I hope he's okay," the woman next to him mumbled to herself. And then more loudly, she turned around and said, "Someone should check on him."

There was a pause, everyone looked at one another no one being able to act without someone's approval, it seemed. Finally a man stood up from the back, pushed his way forward and yelled, "I'll do it since no one fucking else is going to."

Castiel stood up, too. If Dean were here, he would have been the first to react. He wanted to be like Dean, noble and confident, always knowing what to do. The woman at his side stood up, letting him get out of his seat, and he followed the man out the bus to the side of the street where a group of people had already gathered around the man laying on the floor, a bike a few feet away. The man went straight to the injured man, pushing his way (it seemed like he liked to push people) past the crowd and to his side. Castiel did the same, standing behind him and looking at the man on the floor.

"Hey! Buddy, you okay?" The man asked.

"D-do I fucking look okay,  _buddy_?" the injured man hissed, his eyes blinking rapidly and blood falling down his face. "I just got hit by a fucking  _bus_ , dude. I'm so  _far_  from okay!"

"Alright, dude," the man said calmingly. "I aint the one driving the bus so chill."

"CHILL?! You want me to CHILL? I'm bleeding, my arm is probably broken, my leg is twisted and my bike is torn in half and you want me to CHILL?!"

"Anyone call an ambulance?" the man asked the surrounding crowd. A woman raised her hand in response. "Good. All right. They'll be here in a few minutes, if you're lucky. Someone help me move him?"

Castiel volunteered, taken the injured man's legs carefully whilst the other man carried his chest. The moment Castiel touched him he felt dishonesty rising pouring out of the man's soul. As far as Castiel could tell, the most the man had injuered himself was the blow to the head which was bleeding. His arm was fine, his legs were in perfect condition and, apart from his bike, and there was nothing wrong with him at all - almost as if he hadn't just been in an accident.

"Odd," Castiel whispered to himself as he leg go of the man's legs. "You don't seem to be in pain and yet, from what you described, you should be in so much pain it should cause shock."

"Excuse me?" the injured man cried out. "What the hell are you saying?"

"I am saying that you are not as injured as you say you are."

"How do you know – you ain't no doctor, you don't know what I'm feeling or the-"

"But I am," Castiel said, cringing internally at the thought of lying. "I am a doctor."

"Not a very good one…" the man mumbled. "I'm in pain."

"Perhaps a headache from when your head hit the side of the bus but nothing else." Castiel touched the man's legs again. "Your leg is not broken, or twisted in a manner that suggests a break. Your arms, going by the way you are currently holding yourself and the ability to move your fingers, are not injured. Perhaps you are confusing soreness with pain. Otherwise, you are not being truthful."

The man who had gotten off with Castiel turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. "You sure?" Castiel nodded sternly. The man turned to the injured, or not so injured, bicyclist and said, "You lying?"

"No, I am not lying! This guy is a nut!" he pointed towards Castiel. "Don't listen to him, I'm in serious pain."

"And yet, for a man in serious pain, you are very articulate and clear," Castiel pointed out.

"I have a high pain tolerance," was the excuse the man provided a moment later.

"Then you admit to not being in pain," Castiel said. "The ambulance is here, they will confirm or deny my claims." Castiel leaned down to the man and whispered, "You will be judged by a higher power, one that can see through your lies better than I and who you will have to explain yourself to. I wish you mercy when that day comes. Good day, Gregory."

He walked away, gently pushing the crowd apart and leaving without another word. The last thing he heard was the crowd leaving, and the injured man murmuring, "How'd he know my name?"

* * *

He watched and listened. The bus was nearly empty, quiet except for the music blaring from one man's headphones. Castiel sat in the back, getting a view of everyone.

Today had been a particularly exhausting day for him. The Winchesters had called him for assistance several times, a coven of witches had outsmarted them and had cursed them. They didn't know what kind of curse, until they began to shed their hair every time the word witch was mentioned. From there the curse expanded to every time they said dude or awesome. Pretty soon everything they said made their hair fall off. Castiel had gotten a text from Dean, confused he had answered it and appeared at their location to find Sam's full set of hair nearly gone and Dean with patches of hair left.

Needless to say the coven of witches were no more and the brother had hair again. But the endeavour to find the coven had used up a lot of his 'Mojo' as Dean called it and left him tired beyond belief. Even Dean and Sam noted his state once they were able to speak without their hair falling off.

"Hey, Cas, are you feeling okay?" Sam asked tentatively. He looked towards Dean, giving him a strange look.

"Yeah, Cas," Dean said coming over. "You don't look so hot."

Ignoring Dean's strange phrase, Castiel took a step away from them and said, "I will be fine in time. If you need anything else, you know how to reach me." He nodded to the men and then disappeared.

He was on the bus now, watching and waiting. A peaceful calm surrounded him as the streets passed by and more people got on. He watched but nothing happened. Eventually, he dozed off only coming to when his phone vibrated in his pocket. His eyes snapped open And he was alert right away. The Winchesters needed him, he had to go.

* * *

Castiel got on the bus and sat like any other time. Except this time, twenty minutes after getting on, the front of the bus erupted into a shouting match. A black woman was yelling at an elderly Hispanic male. Castiel listened closely, taking out a notebook and taking notes of the incident in enochian.

* * *

_Woman: She's 92 years old! She shouldn't have to ask you to remove your bags!_

_Man: I have a right to put my bag-_

_Woman: Cant you read? *points to a sign over head* it says 'give up your seat for the elderly and disabled'. 92 years old qualifies as elderly, don't you think?_

_Man: I'm elderly too! I'm 62 years old!_

_Another woman intervenes: And how old are your bags? They certainly don't look elderly to me._

_Man: Pinche putas! Cállense la boca y aprendan su lugar!_

_Woman: What did you say? *turns and questions the rest of the bus* What did the coward say? *no one answers*_

* * *

After that the bus remains quite except for a few other choices words said by the man in Spanish. Castiel is confused and stunned. For beings that crave free will, the certainly don't respect themselves enough to earn it.

The man got off the bus, dragging his bags along with him, muttering curses as he went along. The elderly woman was finally able to sit down on the seat previously occupied by the man's bags. She had watched on silently as the fight raged on. Once the man got off the bus, she thanked the woman who had stood up to him.

Castiel might not have been able to interfere before... But he wasn't an angel anymore. He took flight, landing around the corner from the man's stop. He walked, following the grouchy man as he made his way home.

"Don," he called out.

The man turned, confused. "I don't know you, go away and rob another old man."

"Don, why didn't you give up your seat?"

The man stopped walking, spluttering out like an angry dog. His eyes turned cold and he rounded Castiel, dropping his bags. "Who are you to judge me?"

Castiel squared his shoulders and said, in his most menacing voice, "I'm an angel of The Lord."

"Sure you are, buddy! And I'm Jesus Christ!" Don cried out, slapping a hand down on Castiel's shoulder. The angel took flight, disappearing and appearing behind Don. The old man cursed in his native tongue and looked around.

"I can't assure you, Don, you are not Jesus Christ," Castiel growled behind the man.

"Oh, god!" Don made the holy cross with a shaky hand, dropping his bags as he did so. "Oh GOD!"

Castiel tilted his head confused. "I am an angel, not God." He shook his head and said, "This path you lead will bring nothing but hate into your heart." He touched two fingers to the man's forehead, seeing into his past. "You are alone," Castiel commented, taking back his hand. "But it is no reading to feel alone. Channel your hatred of loneliness into something productive, Don."

"Y-yes! I will!"

"Good."

Castiel left, thinking how much he had been interfering as of late with the state of humans. Odd creatures they were, very flawed and yet they fascinated him. Castiel searched out for Dean, taking flight in his direction. Perhaps Dean could elaborate on the complexity of respect, he seemed to have a great deal of it towards his father.

"Dean will know," Castiel muttered to himself. "Dean always knows."

* * *

The Impala had broken down and, in a city with 1.2 million inhabitants and three suspects who lived miles apart, the bus seemed like the logical choice. Castiel had found this job and, very proudly, had brought it to the Winchester's. Amazed that he had found a legit case, they immediately took off to check it out. Dean was proud, Castiel could see it in the way he would catch his eyes in the rear view mirror and smile. Sam was too caught up in the details to say anything to Castiel but he didn't mind. Dean mattered the most; his admiration mattered more than anything Sam could say.

He's suggested it after Sam had left to go to the local library. Unlike Dean, Sam liked to walk and he gladly took off on foot, wrapping a thick wool scarf around himself to combat the biting wind and cold temperature. Dean was lying on the motel bed lazily. His arms behind his head, his shirt riding up and revealing a dark trail of hair leading down to a place Castiel didn't dare think about. He cleared his throat, getting Dean's attention.

"What are we to do whilst Sam does his research?"

Dean sat up, shrugging. "Dunno. We could talk to one of the suspects, I guess. Narrow things down for Sammy." He sighed dramatically, rubbing his face with his hands. "But Baby is out and I ain't walkin' in the cold."

"We could take the bus," Castiel suggested in a tone that meant there was no room for discussion. "Let us proceed."

"Wa - wait!" Dean called out stopping Castiel from opening the door. "Why can't you just use your mojo and pop us near by or somethin'?"

"My grace is slowly diminishing, Dean. I do not wish to use it up traveling back and forth when we could, just as easily, take the bus."

"Yeah, Cas, but it's the bus," Dean said as if that explained it all.

"Yes, the bus," Castiel agreed, unsure where this was going.

"It's public transportation."

"Yes, I am aware."

"Regular folks ride the bus."

"I am aware of that, as well, Dean."

"I can't take my gun with me," the hunter said. "What if we are attacked or something?"

"We won't."

"How can you be sure?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. "How can you be so damn sure we won't be attacked and killed?"

"By going on the bus?" Castiel asked dubious of that scenario. He shook his head, adding, "I won't let anything happen to you, Dean. While I'm still on this Earth, nothing will happen to you, I swear it."

Dean was silent for one moment before a smirk pulled at his lips. "You get me all tingly when you say things like that, angel."

"It is the truth."

"And don't I know it," Dean said turning away. Castiel watched as the hunter turned to his back, rummaging inside of it to get his suit. Surprisingly, it wasn't rumbled or folded at odd angles like most of Dean's clothes. Dean turned to Castiel and said, "Let me get changed and then we can go."

"Yes."

Dean turned away, going into the bathroom to change. Castiel had high hopes for this trip and perhaps, if this first trrip went well, Dean would be more than likely to come along for more rides on the bus. He suppressed a hopeful smile. He was about to share his sacred place with Dean and the joy he felt inside was indescribable.

"Cas? You okay?" Dean's voice startled Castiel. He nodded, noticing that Dean had styled his hair. Dean never styled his hair anymore, not since coming back from Purgatory. Odd, he thought. His eyes met Dean's who looked at him questioningly. "You sure you're okay?"

"I am…" Castiel trailed off, trying to find the correct word to describe what he felt. There was none. He opted for the second best word he could think of. "Happy that you have chosen to ride the bus with me."

"It's just a bus, Cas, not a date," Dean teased. "We can talk about that after we catch this supernatural sonuvabitch, okay?"

"Yes, Dean," Castiel replied with a smile. "I would like that."

"Good. Lead the way."

* * *

**End**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Spanish translation: "Stupid hoes. Shut up and learn your place."


End file.
